What works for me
I appreciate everyone’s sympathies on life with a fussy baby! I’m actually feeling much better than I was, say, three days ago when I felt like I’d hit my limit. Now I feel like I’m in my groove again.
A few nights ago, Madison was crying and crying and crying and nothing was working. I started crying, too. Brett had already taken his shift and I didn’t want to wake him again since he had to get up so early. I thought, “Well, that’s it. I’m at the end of my rope. I’ve got no more to give.” So I prayed about it. I don’t write much about prayer in this journal because it’s a pretty private thing but anyway, I prayed about it. I said, “I can’t do anymore. Send down some reenforcements. Send down a change of heart.”
I didn’t pray that Madison would stop; I prayed that I would find a way to be more patient and accepting. And it worked. It always works. Athiests among you can say it’s psychological, believers can say that God answered my prayers. Frankly, I don’t give a damn why it works but I’m glad it does.
Anyway, what I’ve found in the seven years of parenting Noah and now I’m finding again in parenting Madison is that generally the thing that needs to change when we’re having trouble is me. It’s always my attitude getting in the way of moving forward as a family. With Madison, letting go of my need to soothe her freed me just to be with her when she’s in tears. And I must be radiating more calm because she’s crying less or maybe I just think she’s crying less.
Letting go of my own unhappiness and frustration lets me come to my kids with more compassion. I realized that part of me was having trouble with her crying because I’m still struggling to feel confident as her mother. See, I came to this experience believing that it would be just like parenting Noah and it’s not. Because she’s adopted, because she’s our second baby, because we’re not nursing. By constantly comparing her to him, I was doing her a grave disservice. My experience in becoming her mother is not lacking or less than — it’s just different and for me, it’s been harder.
In my prayers I reminded God that I believe that this adoption was meant to be and was absolutely right. So, I said, could you please help me find the rightness in her tears? And what I found in my heart is that her crying is her reaching out to me and asking me to be with her. It’s my chance to step up and be her mommy. Not to fix it, but to love her through it. Like when Noah was a toddler and would have fits and I would just hold him as he raged. Now I need to hold her as she rages.
I do think that Madison is going to be such a wonderful person and I think her big personality is coming through. Her crying is strong and opinionated. I love that in her.
I have always loved in Noah that which challenges me the most and I know that it will be the same way with Madison. I like children with spirit. Aren’t I lucky that God has seen fit to send me two?
Anyway, that’s what works for me. The more I fought her tears and tried to make them stop, the more frustrated and unhappy I got. Letting go makes things easier. The gadgets — the swaddle blanket, the swing — help me catch my breath but I’m not looking for cures. She needs to cry and I need to be there with her while she does. We’ll get through it. At least I don’t feel crazy any more.
What a beautiful post, Dawn.
Thank you for sharing that. What a great reminder for moms.
That was beautiful. I hope I am half as wise of a Mother as you someday!
That was a lesson I had to learn with my 2nd too. To push aside my discomfort with her tears, to stop trying to shush them and just be there to listen.
“Frankly, I don’t give a damn why it works but I’m glad it does.”
Amen to that! I will try to remember this in coming months. It’s crazy how when I need it most, I’m least likely to remember to do it!
I have really enjoyed your blog - it’s one of my daily reads these days. I am an adoptee and was homeschooled as well so I find lots to relate to. You sound like a fantastic adoptive mother, very aware of the fact that there are added dimensions to adopted children. You may have heard of this book, but it’s one that I found very informative and helpful in dealing with being adopted. It’s called “The Primal Wound” by Nancy Verrier. I think it’s awesome that you have an open relationship with J. Best wishes to you and your family.
You fill me with awe.
“Anyway, what I’ve found in the seven years of parenting Noah and now I’m finding again in parenting Madison is that generally the thing that needs to change when we’re having trouble is me.”
Dawn, you are a grown-up and a total pro, one of the finest examples of the kind of parent I hope someday to be.
You are: impressive.
“See, I came to this experience believing that it would be just like parenting Noah and it’s not. Because she’s adopted, because she’s our second baby, because we’re not nursing.”
Because she’s Madison. Seriously, I gave birth to two daughters, same father, same beautiful births, breastfed, so-slept. I’m convinced my second daughter was sent to me to teach me that I didn’t know diddly about parenting. Everything I knew was wrong. Sure all those other things are different for you, but if you had carried Madison in your womb for 9 months you could easily have wondered as I often did even during pregnancy, “why is this baby _so different_?” Hang in there. This, too, shall pass.
Crying babies are hard. You want to make them stop, partially because you want them to be happy and content, and partially because that crying is loud and grating, isn’t it? Everyone always says that babies are such a treasure, and that’s true, but they require work too. Don’t get down on yourself for having the same basic reaction that every mother has. It’s great that you realize that Madison’s crying is not to push you, but that she needs to express something. I’m so happy for you that your prayers were answered in this way. I find with my son too that when we hit a wall, most often I’m the one that needed to change.
Just give yourself a break when you need one. Babies are like tiny creatures from another world. They’re here but they don’t know our language or customs, so they can’t express their needs. The whole infant/toddler stage is so that you can learn their language and they can learn yours. You’re like a diplomat, making contact, building lines of communication. All potentially frustrating, depending on the temperament of the babies (alien creature) involved. Here on Earth, diplomats get time off from the work! With babies, it seems, the vacations and sick leave are fewer and farther between. Take care of yourself, like you are, and I’m sure Madison will notice.
Dawn, this entry reflects much of my feelings during my youngest son’s early days, except that he isn’t adopted. He actually had an easier birth than my first son did, and yet my first son almost never cried and the youngest often cried no matter what you did. It wasn’t colic, and as a 3 year old he’s actually less sensitive (but more headstrong) than my older son at the same age, so I never have figured out what the big secret was. The crying is so hard! Hang in there.